


I Wanted To Be A Dancer

by entanglednow



Category: Dragon Age 2
Genre: F/F, Foot Fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-12
Updated: 2011-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You have such pretty feet, kitten."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanted To Be A Dancer

  
Merrill's bed is very small. It's really not designed for two people, not even the slip and slide of two slender elves. Though Isabela has made a habit of defying other people's expectations, and assumptions. Of fitting herself where she wasn't meant to be. It's something she's proud of.

Merrill doesn't take up much space, all long, pretty limbs that fold up so delicately. Isabela almost feels clumsy next to her. But she fits on the end quite well, balanced against the wall, with her boots kicked off, and one hand holding a rather expensive bottle of wine. Which Merrill is not allowed any more of. Merrill is not allowed any more, because she gets giggly and mischievous far too easily. Granted Isabela thinks she may love Merrill's giggly and mischievous stage of drunkenness. But it comes rather to close to her 'passed-out drunk,' stage of drunkenness, which is significantly less fun. So Isabela's withholding, like the responsible adult.

Hawke would be so proud. It's disgusting.

Merrill is still in that sociable, smiley stage, cheeks warm, hair an excitable sort of mess, that her ears are attempting to play hide and seek in. They're failing abysmally, of course. She's explaining, in her overly detailed and excitable way, about the first time she got drunk. Only she's getting the order mixed up, and occasionally she'll stop talking in any language Isabela can understand, and it's the most adorable thing Isabela has ever heard. Merrill is so easy to _encourage_. But eventually she runs out of words and laughter, feet slipped into Isabela's lap, and that's really too good to resist. Isabela sets the bottle down on the floor, and captures one.

"You have such pretty feet, kitten."

Merrill has the most adorable surprised expression. It reminds Isabela of a deer. Yes, that's the perfect description, Merrill looks like a deer when she's surprised. A sexy deer.

"I do?" Merrill's toes twitch and bend against Isabela's bare leg. They're long, nails shiny and delicate.

"You do, look at them, your toes are the loveliest things I've ever seen."

Merrill curls forward on the bed, stares curiously at her own feet. "I don't really think about them. Unless I step on something, there are a lot of things to step on in Kirkwall, and most of them aren't very nice. The Dalish don't usually have to worry about broken glass, and things, in the forest. Varric keeps talking about shoes -"

"No." Isabela's unexpectedly scandalised by the idea. She squeezes Merrill's toes, which feels like an oddly protective gesture. "Watching your pretty feet dance through the grubby streets, is a highlight of my day, and if you started wearing shoes that would be a tragedy, Merrill."

Isabela rubs the knuckles carefully, half-caught in the warmth of a memory.

"I knew a dancer who'd oil up her feet, and then bring you to the brink of orgasm with her toes. She knew the perfect mixture of pressure, and speed and _adventurousness._ "

Isabela watches Merrill's face go surprised and flushed at the same time. Yes, she's had exactly enough to drink.

"I'm not sure I'd be very good at that." Her voice is breathless at the edges, but Isabela thinks Merrill likes the idea immensely.

"You never know until you try." Isabela lets her fingers drift up and down the instep, skin so smooth she can barely feel it. She thinks she finally understands all those tiresome poetic comparisons to milk. Merrill's so long and smooth you could drink her in.

"It never seems to work all that well when I'm adventurous. You're so much better at trying new things than I am. " The sad tone to the words forces Isabela to lean forward, fingers catching the scarf Merrill wears. Merrill's leg bends, flexible and effortless, when Isabela leans forward and kisses her, one brief press against her closed mouth.

"You have to try everything at least once," Isabella says with a smile, then leans back again, taking the scarf with her.

"Even the scary and dangerous things?"

"Oh, _especially_ the scary and dangerous things, they're often the most fun." Isabela can't resist spreading Merrill's toes, blowing cold air between them. Merrill laughs and squirms, foot stretching in Isabela's hands. She doesn't try and pull it free. It encourages Isabela to pull one foot up onto her knee. She lets her fingernails run across the ankle, down the back of her heel. Isabela's cross with herself for not noticing before. For completely missing the fact that elvish feet were really very pretty indeed. Or perhaps it's just Merrill's. She should find some subtle way to get a look at Fenris feet. A plan - Hawke would have a plan, he has a plan for everything, and even when it's a terrible plan it somehow all manages to work out fine. Who knows, Hawke might appreciate the fruits of her labour as well. He has a soft spot - ha, no, quite the opposite - for their grumpy elf.

"Spread your toes for me."

Merrill complies with a laugh - which stops, breaks when Isabella finds the delicate webbing between with her tongue. She marks curious, wet trails around Merrill's toes, and listens to the surprised hitch and catch of her breath. The skin is so delicate under Isabela's tongue, soft under her teeth. She tests the strength of it, bites, and then sucks gently where the skin is fine and delicate, just because she can.

"Isabela." Merrill's accent is soft and breathless, and she sighs disappointment, when Isabela lets her damp toes fall back into her lap.

"I'd quite like to slide gold coins between your toes," Isabela decides. "Watch that shiny cold metal roll across your pretty, pale skin. You have expensive toes." She hears the sigh that comes out of her mouth. The familiarity of affection, lust and avarice, which has led her to so many bad decisions. But Merrill is smiling like she's never heard anything so delightful, and Isabela can't help but smile back.

"I've never had money on my feet before." Merrill makes everything sound like an adventure, and Isabela isn't sure how anyone is supposed to resist her.

"That's what makes it fun." Isabela catches both of Merrill’s feet, pulls them against her chest, until she can feel delicate curl and catch of toes against the top of her breasts. "And I do love fun. If you're not having fun then you're doing it wrong."

Merrill giggles, and Isabela notices that the world is...airier than it was before. She looks down and finds that the little minx has managed to unlace her shirt with her toes, and draw the fabric away from her left breast.

Isabela laughs, sharp and surprised. "Oh, kitten, I'm going to have to watch you."

Merrill sways forward and continues with her fingers - and what daring, naughty fingers they are - laughing every time Isabela is distracted enough by her closeness to lean down and kiss her.

"You're still wearing more clothes than me," Isabela complains. "Fair play and all that."

"I thought you didn't believe in fair play."

"I've created a monster," Isabela complains, with mock seriousness. But Merrill stretches, body curving in so many interesting ways, as she slowly wriggles and pulls her way free of her over-dress and leggings. She should look awkward and coltish like this. Everyone looks awkward pulling their way out of their clothes. But Merrill does it with such casual abandon. As if this isn't a seduction, but play, and some people take years to learn that.

Isabela doesn't want to break the spell, but she can't stay silent.

"I love watching you undress for me."

Instead of self-consciousness there's a smile, as if Isabela has given her a compliment.

"And dress for you, if you include that time you make me look like a pirate."

"Merrill," Isabela says roughly, fondness, exasperation and lust fighting for space in her blood. She wraps her hands round Merrill's waist and pulls her in.

"Being a pirate was fun though," Merrill says quickly, before kissing Isabela, before she can offer much more than a muffled laugh. Isabela fully intends to ask Merrill what she's supposed to do with her. But she's lived long enough to be a clever girl.

Merrill's bodice comes apart at the back, catches opening and Isabela pulls it free, lets it get lost in the bed. Arms wound round Merrill's slender, warm and deliciously bare body.

Her pale, high breasts are distracting enough that Isabela briefly forgets about her feet. Instead she lays her back against the sheets. It's too tempting not to follow a path down from Merrill's throat with her mouth, to find the rounded curve of one breast and do indecent things to it with her tongue and teeth. The sharp clutch of fingers in her hair, and the squeeze of long legs pulling at her waist, is a reward for her attention. She eases free, slides back to her knees. Though it's a fight not to be drawn back, by the way Merrill's pink nipple shines wet in the candlelight.

Isabela likes the look of her hands on Merrill's skin. The way they contrast, the way the faint scars on the backs of her hands and her bright jewellery are so different to the pale skin, and the delicate tattoos. She always feels just a little grubby - and Merrill sparkles like a jewel, eyes big and innocent - and the way that makes Isabela feel. She never knows whether to be aroused, or ask for forgiveness.

She suspects Merrill sometimes takes advantage of that. She's spent far too much time around Hawke and Varric.

"Isabela, do you really like my feet best?" Merrill asks breathlessly.

"I never said I liked them best." Isabela very slowly pushes her hands between Merrill's feet, fingers moving up her calves, separating her legs, and then settling between them. "Right at this moment in time, I would very much like your pretty feet on my back, while I have my mouth on you."

"Oh," Merrill's soft noise of surprise makes Isabela laugh, and kiss the rounded curve of her knee.

Isabela's palms slide along the inside of Merrill's thighs, coaxing them open wider. Merrill gives a little breathless gasp. Isabela turns her head to the side, kisses the smoothness of the skin, feels it tense and twitch under her mouth. She can't resist opening her mouth and leaving the faintest bite there.

"And then we'll find some oil, and I shall make your toes shine, and then teach you to do indecent things with them."


End file.
